


Rio Bravo

by leoandsnake



Category: Graceland (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Beach Sex, M/M, Outdoor Sex, passing mention of pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:34:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoandsnake/pseuds/leoandsnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the beginning of 1x07, after the beach conversation. Mike finds an interesting way to gauge how trustworthy Briggs is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rio Bravo

He sits uncomfortably on a palm tree stump for Briggs' entire story. It feels longer than it probably is; Mike is still full of adrenaline. The cool ocean air keeps whipping him gently in the face.

Finally it's over and he has to ask, just because Briggs has been so smooth, so rehearsed - he thinks he must be getting ready to drop a bomb.

Mike draws himself up as he says it. “Briggs, do you still use?”

Pause.

“I slipped up once or twice in the beginning, but I've been clean for a while now.”

His eye contact with Mike is firm. It’s meant to be reassuring, but his eyes are so earnest and liquid in the darkness that heat spreads up Mike’s spine and he has to look away.

“So what now, Agent Briggs?” he says quickly.

“Ahhh, what now indeed? Let’s go home.”

They get up in tandem.

"Just like that,” Mike says, walking over to him, getting a little too close. “Just walk out of here like nothing's changed?” _I’m not done with you,_ is the implication. _We’re not done here. I want more._

Briggs looks at him almost curiously. “I wouldn't say nothing's changed, but what am I supposed to do, man? Either you're going to say something or you're not.”

Mike squints, nods slowly.

“All I can do is keep moving forward until something or someone stops me." He taps Mike on the chest. “Same as always.”

Briggs moves as if to go and Mike says, against his better judgment, “Wait.”

He turns back and Mike takes his jacket lapel in his hand, pulling him in a little.

“I want to trust you, Paul,” he murmurs. “I really do. But this is a lot.”

It’s shitty, of course. He’s playing this situation to get another shot at what they almost had on the beach a few weeks ago, when they were straggling behind the group as they headed back to the house and Mike dropped his keys in the sand and Briggs dropped to his knees to hold his phone out as a flashlight and they fell further behind. “Mikey,” Briggs had said, pretty drunk. “I like it when you loosen up.”

Mike had smiled, grabbed his keys, and stood up. And the moment he did Briggs was in front of him, on him, gazing at him.

Mike’s eyes dropped to his mouth and came back up to his eyes.

Briggs just clapped him on the back, smiled, and turned around, disappearing into the darkness.

But now, right now, he isn’t leaving, he’s still and looking at Mike. He hasn’t gone to push Mike’s hand off his jacket. He’s waiting for Mike’s next move.

“I want to trust you,” Mike repeats. It comes out so quietly and carelessly. _I want… you._

Briggs leans in to kiss him but freezes and meets Mike’s eyes. “Are we doing this?” he says. “Is this okay?”

“We’re doing this,” Mike says. He grabs Briggs’ face in his hands, runs his fingers over his stubble, and he kisses him. Over and over and then Briggs’ wonderful mouth opens up and he gathers Mike up against him, hard, and they’re sucking at each other’s lips, Briggs’ tongue is in his mouth. Mike hasn’t kissed a guy in a while and he’s forgotten how much room there is to spread out, how rough stubble is.

He wants Briggs on top of him, pressing him into the ground, and he tries to pull him down with urgency but Briggs has his own plan - he’s so zen, so calculated with his movements, undoing Mike’s shirt a little at a time.

Briggs’ own shirt gaps open obscenely at the chest and Mike starts making his way down there, sucking at his throat and then lower on his neck and then he licks across his chest. Briggs makes a soft noise and Mike goes lower, his knees buckling. Briggs looks at him in surprise and Mike says raggedly “come down here,” and Briggs kneels too, then pushes him back into the dirt and sand.

“Trust me yet?” Briggs says softly, yanking Mike’s shirt roughly over his head.

“We’ll see,” Mike says. He’s so hard and Briggs can feel it, is rubbing his thigh against Mike’s cock. The cool breeze off the ocean hits him again, but he’s warm now.

Briggs leans down over Mike and starts mouthing over his body, from one of his nipples to a tickly spot by his ribs to lower down, by his navel, and then lower, and then he’s undoing Mike’s belt. Mike reaches forward and starts doing the same for Briggs, fumbling with it until he’s gotten it loose enough to pull Briggs’ pants off his ass.

He’s hard too. Mike swallows nervously.

“I want, uh.” His mouth is so dry. “I… Do you have a condom?”

Briggs stretches out over him and runs his fingers through Mike’s hair gently. “Yeah.”

“Do you have lube?”

“No… But I can, uh… gimme a sec.”

He gets up and walks away and Mike suddenly feels cold, and very alone, lying here flat on his back half-naked. This is stupid, stupid, stupid. He’s in deeper than he thought. And if Briggs is an addict who’s to say he’s not doing the H that’s been going missing, that he isn’t lying to him about being clean.

Mike wants to trust him so badly. His body thrums with it. But he can’t for sure. And now… he can’t tell if he’s playing Briggs to get closer to him or just compromising himself emotionally.

Briggs is back with something in his hand. He kneels back down.

“You sure about this one, Mikey?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely. What is that?”

“Just Vaseline. Relax. Done this before?”

“Once.”

“With a guy or a girl?”

“A girl, actually.”

“Okay. Less friction with a fake one, probably.”

“I’m guessing.”

Briggs gets the condom onto himself then reaches out and strokes Mike’s cheekbone. “You look so good right now,” he says softly.

He’s sweating bullets from nerves, but Mike doesn’t know what Briggs counts as sexy per se.

Briggs starts fingering him without any real warning and he makes a noise without meaning to. Briggs leans forward again and starts kissing him, nice and deep, shushing him softly when he starts to get a little louder.

“I want you, I want you,” he says, almost frantically, and Briggs presses their foreheads together and murmurs back, “I know, I want you too, I’m getting there. Just breathe.”

He’s about to push into Mike and he pauses and looks at him, all big dark eyes and upper lip bruised from hitting Mike’s teeth by accident earlier. “Do you trust me?”

“I do,” Mike says. _For now. About this._ “Yeah, I trust you.”

And then Briggs is inside of him and colder wind has started whipping in off the beach. Mike is in a weird kind of pain. It’s there, but it’s not. It feels good but it doesn’t. It’s a ghost inside of him and his mouth is full of Briggs’ tongue. He breathes deeply and slowly, matching the calm rise and fall of Briggs’ chest, because he knows at any moment he could start to feel like a trapped wild animal, lying here underneath this bigger and stronger addict of an agent who has his cock inside of him.

But there’s no reason to be afraid and he trusts him and this feels good. He keeps breathing, moaning, sighing, his thighs squeezed to either side of Briggs’ waist, one of his hands pressed to Briggs’ shoulderblade.

“You feel so good,” Briggs groans, pressing their foreheads together again. He reaches up and grabs Mike by the hair. “You feel incredible…”

“I know,” Mike says. It’s all he can think of to say for some reason. Briggs chuckles.

The sand is coarse against his back.

 

/

 

They grab drinks after and talk late into the night, just shooting the shit, and by the time they drive all the way back it’s well into the morning and everyone’s up.

“Where you guys been?” DJ asks, looking more than a little suspicious (thankfully, Johnny just looks blase as usual).

“Driving Bello around all night,” Mike lies, hoping he doesn’t sound or look as fucked out as he is. “Briggs had the pleasure of running surveillance while we talks about Rio Bravo for eight hours.”

“Did you guys know that cowboys liked to spontaneously break into song?”

It’s such bullshit, but Briggs sells it with that flat tone of his.

“Trust me, now I do. This dude here though? Does a mean Dean Martin,” he adds, turning to leave the room again. He surreptitiously swipes at Mike’s ass as he does.

“Thanks,” Mike says, as casually as possible.

Johnny just laughs.  
  
  



End file.
